Neverwhere
by Billy Jukes
Summary: The pirates & Lost Boys must travel to Port Royal before a sinister force rivaling Hook unleashes havoc on Neverland. Peter messes with fate, rescuing a dying mortal, Eve. But the price is more than anyone can pay, for immortality lasts forever...
1. Birthdays

**Neverwhere**

**By Cassandra Lynne**

**neverland_is_forever@yahoo.com**

Rating: PG-13. Well, this does get a little dark. Okay, so it's dark in the first chapter. Sue me. I don't DO rainbows and sunshine. Except on demand. ;)

Disclaimer: Though I did not invent most of these characters, I highly doubt anyone will sue me, considering that I have absolutely no money and the copyright has expired on Barrie's work. My characters are mine, please don't use them without permission. This means any characters not historically extant or part of the original storyline. Thanks so much for reading, and please review me if you want me to post more. Thanks!

**Chapter One****: Birthdays**

The night air hummed, pulsing with life and humidity. It was unusual for the temperate climate to bring forth such a heated and clammy atmosphere, especially this late in the evening. A chorus of crickets filled the spaces between the trees with a chorus of a thousand tiny voices. A great white owl leaped into the sky at the sight of its prey, spreading its gargantuan wings, cutting through the fervid mists in its silent, deadly mission. Somewhere far away, a wolf loosed its piercing cry into the dark. The forest was alive, a heart with a beat all its own. 

Somewhere below the tree line, a boy was gazing up at the stars. Although the ground was saturated with fog, he still had a magnificent view. The clouds had parted, revealing the vault of the sky in crystalline perfection, a vast painting of infinite space. Beautiful, he mused. He had never seen so many stars. I should look up more often. 

He silently vowed that he would. If he ever got down from there. 

He tested the ropes of the net again, desperately trying to free his boots of the knotted cords that twisted into a remarkably tight double entendre at his feet. He cursed and tried to maneuver his body around into an upright position and only succeeded in pulling one of his legs into a new and far more uncomfortable position. He cursed again, louder. 

Then he heard the rustle of low-lying brush and settled for cursing silently. 

It was not Pan. Peter was not the ambulant type, or taking to casual strolls in the forest alone at midnight. He would fly. The steps were light and uneven, almost hesitant. But those mere facts did not relieve him from danger. 

The boy tensed, every muscle in his body cringing as the sound grew louder, the footsteps much closer now. He prayed they would pass him by, were just the noises of a random exploration that just happened to cross his path. 

The treading stopped. Whoever it was paused suddenly, as if sensing that another person was nearby. The boy lay perfectly still, save for the hand that reached backwards for his slingshot. Only to realize he had lost it in the thickets two days ago. 

_Stupid idiot._

The sounds reached the edge of the clearing. A figure stepped out of the shadows, and he recognized the person at once. The boy grinned. Interesting evening. 

Yes, it is. 

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, eyes hardened and sharply focused. Slowly, the boy hanging in the tree pointed to the ground and an upturned basket. I brought you never-berries. He paused. I really hate these booby traps of yours. 

The second youth finally broke into a grin, white teeth flashing in the dark. I guess you'll just have to get smarter, then. 

They both laughed. Billy Jukes reached up along the sides of the tree, fingers tracing the grooves in the bark for handholds. He began to climb, swiftly and easily as the second watched him. Slightly thought he looked like a lynx hunting squirrels. 

I'm glad you found me, he said, as Jukes fumbled with the ropes above his head. If it was any other pirate, I'd be slightly screwed over. 

No, I'm glad I found you, Jukes grunted. Do you really think I'd be letting anyone else but you escape? There. Suddenly, Slightly felt the knots beneath him loosen, and the net collapsed, unraveling from a secret knot that he never knew was there. 

Good point. He swooped down and picked up the basket, handing it to the youthful pirate gunner. They grinned at each other. This just gets more fun every time, Jukes commented, his eyes sparkling. 

I agree, Slightly laughed. So, where is the rest of Hook's, um, cheery crew? 

Bill snickered. "On the beach, less than a league away, making their own form of sunshine. And maybe a little moonshine too, if they have time. Yours? 

Slightly big news, the flaxen-haired boy answered, hopping onto a nearby log. Wendy, John and Michael have left Neverland. 

Jukes' face took on the look of astonishment for one of the few times in his life. He sat down slowly. You're just yanking me around. 

Slightly shook his head. No, really. It's true. They left with Peter and Tinkerbell this morning, as soon as they could see the dawn on the horizon. I know, he yawned. We all got up to say goodbye one last time. 

Billy just sat there, staring at him. That's so He gazed off into the distance, searching for the right words. I've known Peter and Wendy to do everything together for so long, it's hard to remember when that rapscallion was by himself. 

He's hardly ever been by himself, Slightly protested emphatically. He rounded up the Lost Boys right after he discovered Neverland! 

Yeah, yeah, ok, Jukes replied distractedly. He sat there for a few seconds lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, he jumped up, momentarily startling Slightly as he began to pace. But—why? It just doesn't make sense. Everyone else seems to stay forever, whether they want to or not! 

Slightly began, I guess the problem started when Wendy got angry at Peter for letting Tink act obnoxious towards her last Mardi Gras. You know, telling her to stay away from Peter, that he didn't belong to her. He adjusted his cap. They argued, and she called him immature, naïve, and irresponsible. Slightly shrugged. I didn't really see what the problem was. 

Jukes rolled his eyes. I bet Peter didn't, either. No wonder Wendy blew up. Go on. 

So it turns out that Wendy kept track of how many days she and her brothers had been on the island. Just counting the time after Peter brought Jane for a visit, they had spent over three years here. 

Jukes whistled. That was pretty recently. 

Not if her figures are correct, and I'm more than slightly sure that they are. Which means that the Darlings spent about ten years here. 

Jukes spit out the berries he was tasting. Excuse me? he sputtered, choking. 

Slightly pounded him on the back. You okay? 

Billy coughed. You _gotta_ stop scaring me like that. He hacked a bit more. By the way, thanks for the food. Cookson's meals get worse every day. 

Slightly slapped his head. 

Oh, no! he groaned. 

What's wrong? 

The food! he wailed. Wendy used to cook all our meals for us! Who's going to do that now that we're gone? Slightly stamped his foot. This is turning into a slightly catastrophic mess! Peter's going to be grouchy, Tink will throw a fit now because she won't have Wendy anymore, and we'll have to barter with the Indians again! 

Jukes enunciated slowly, maybe Peter will find you a new mother. 

Don't be a moron, Billy. 

I was being sarcastic. 

The pirate turned excitedly to Slightly. I have interesting news, too. 

What's that? Slightly asked skeptically. 

The Jolly Roger's taking a voyage. 

Now it was Slightly's turn to gasp. You must be joking. Or think I'm a dolt, one or the other. He spat. Hook will never leave without killing Peter Pan. 

Jukes smirked. Oh, I think he will. To keep his crew from mutiny, a cap'n will do just about anything. 

Slightly raised an eyebrow. 

Mutiny, is it? 

That's right. Most of the crew, Mullins in particular, is damn sick and tired of waiting around on an enchanted isle for a final battle that in all likelihood will never happen. Even Hook knows better than to risk ten years of loyalty over a break. 

This piqued Slightly's curiosity. What—where will you go? He gulped, his heart skipping a beat. He didn't want to ask, but he had to know. Will you be coming back? 

Oh, yeah, sure, Billy dismissed his fears with a wave of the hand. Hook was concerned, naturally, so he went to this fairy and asked how to return to Neverland. She laughed and him and told him he'd be back almost as soon as he left, whether he wanted to or not. He snorted. The Jolly Roger is cursed, she said, and that if we sailed away from Neverland, it would only be a matter of time before the spell would overcome us again. Naturally, he was suspicious. So he made her ensure his return by casting another spell. 

I thought fish would sprout wings before the fairies helped a pirate, Slightly frowned. 

The Cap'n made her an offer she couldn't refuse, Jukes muttered. 

What will you do while you're back in the other world? 

Oh, I don't know, Billy smiled lazily, pulling out his sword from its well-oiled scabbard to inspect the blade. What pirates usually do—steal treasure, slit throats and terrorize the general population. He slashed his sword at imaginary foes, brandishing it high in the air for effect. 

_Oh, to be a villain once more, just like the old days!_ Jukes thought happily. It filled him with a giddy pleasure, though seeing Mullins in good spirits was far better than the violence that went with it. I'm sure Hook will have us tour the shore. Ravish, pillage, plunder, ya know, that sort of thing. The pirate lay back, imagining all the adventures they would have. 

Inwardly, Slightly suppressed a shudder. Did he really know his friend as well as he thought he did? _It's his way of life, he reminded himself. How could he know anything else?_ But it disturbed him. 

Jukes sheathed his sword and tossed some berries at Slightly. Catch. I have to go back soon, or they're going to suspect something's up. 

Slightly scratched his head. Just a thoughtwouldn't they suspect something already? 

Now you're being generous and giving them too much credit, Billy chortled. No, it's actually my party. I can do whatever I want. 

Come again? 

I'm not positive about this, if you must know, Jukes lowered his voice, so don't get me in more trouble and have Pan chasing me for treason. But according to the fairy holidays, I think it's my birthday. 

Slightly smiled. Neat! Congratulations, sir! He stood up formally, bowed to the pirate, and honored him in mock salute as Billy tried not to crack up. How young, may I ask, dear Jukes? spoke Slightly in a high-pitched and rather poor colonel's imitation. 

Or, shall we say, how old should you be? 

I was almost twenty when the Jolly Roger first arrived in Neverland, Billy answered. But it's been forever, and I don't look any older. 

Actually, you're mistaken, the lost boy corrected. You look older since the last time I saw you. Which is slightly strange, he added, scratching his head. In fact, that's not supposed to happen here. 

You know, Jukes responded cautiously, I was going to say the exact same thing—" 

Then both looked at each other for a moment. Then they raced to the edge of the river. 

I don't get it! Slightly squeaked, putting his hands to his face in shock. I must be at least three years older, maybe more! What am I gonna do? Peter will kick me out of Neverland! This is slightly terrible! 

Jukes started, distracted by his own reflection in the rippling waters, it happened to everyone. I'm a pirate, and I look older as well. It could be all of us. 

Slightly slumped to the ground. I don't feel any more like a grownup than before, thank goodness. He tore his eyes from the image of a teenager and buried his face in his hands. What's going on, Billy? Why is this happening to us? 

Jukes turned away from the riverbank, hiding from the youth of three and twenty years that stared back at him in the current. I don't know, he whispered. But whatever this is, it's changing Neverland. 

Slightly commented quietly, at least we don't look the worse for wear yet. He tilted his head to stare up at his secret friend, and smiled at him. Happy birthday, Jukes. 

Billy lifted his face, sensing the breeze pick up around them, stirring something in the air. He moved his eyes back down and met Slightly's gaze with his own. Back at ya, kid, he said softly. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

New York, USA. The Present. 

And Lancelot held her, clinging to Guinevere as if God would rip open the earth and tear them apart at any moment. She was sobbing. He whispered words of endearment in her ear that would never have an equal, moaning, crying in her hair for what was lost to them forever. 

Yet even as Guinevere knew her heart to be breaking, she could only sense the aura, the magic that chose that moment to come alive again. She had not felt it in over ten years, not since a foggy midnight so long ago, but its presence was undeniable. _So we were as we will be, steps in the sand, shadows of the past._ She remembered what Merlin had said. _All roads lead home. No beginning exists without an end that was born first. Why does nothing else live in this moment but us? It is as if we are joined together, once and again, inseparable before time, from the dawn of the world_

Words. Only words. 

She sighed and closed the book. If pain were a revelation, she would have been enlightened long ago. _All the words in the world can't make things better now. I wish I could just disappear_

It was the fourth fight they'd had in a week. She couldn't have a conversation that lasted longer than two seconds without starting an argument. She didn't even try to remember what they were about anymore. 

The girl was home for summer vacation. Her parents counted the minutes until college started again so that they could ship her off to college. She couldn't wait, either. It was a miracle they weren't making her pay for it. After all, what would they have left to dote on their adorable son whom they cherished so dearly? 

Poor little spoiled brat, she muttered. She didn't know whether she was referring to Rich or herself. 

Did it matter? She had failed them, and to make matters worse, she had failed herself. 

On the floor, near the bed sheets dragged carelessly onto the floor, a stack of grade reports lay on the carpet. The first several had A's, A+'s and glowing praise covering the pages. The latest sat shoved to the side, crumpled up so that the B's and C-s didn't show. 

A trail of a sticky liquid wandered aimlessly around the room, the spots shining in the late evening sun. It traveled back to the opposite side of the bed, into a small opal bottle marked Nevis' Red Rum. 

The girl sighed, smearing the tears on her face with the back of her hand and closing the book that lay in her lap. She had stained her blouse. She took another swig from the bottle. 

_Here's to nothing,_ she thought. _I'm selfish and this is my fault. I blame myself._ She turned her face away and brought her hand quickly across her wrist, cutting it with the Swiss Army knife she had stolen from her father's bureau. 

The blood spurted out instead of dripping. Her expression changed from calm satisfaction to alarm, and she gasped in pain. She'd read about it before, how people did it to punish themselves. But the wound looked awfully deep 

She dropped the knife and clasped her right hand over the gash. When it didn't stop the flow, she reached for the dishtowel tossed at her feet and tried to bind the wound. But it proved difficult to knot with only one hand, and slipped off too easily. The blood was making a growing puddle on the floor. 

Panicking, she started to cry out for help, then realized the family had gone to the movies without her. She looked around and dove for the phone, trying not to jerk her wrist around. 

The blood had soaked the rag. She froze. _I'm going to die. Damn, this wasn't supposed to happen!_ Then it hit her. It would look like a suicide. _No! I have to get help!_

she screamed as she doubled over in pain. _Get the phone._ She grasped for the receiver with her good hand, releasing the pressure on the wound. 

Hello, 911, a calm female voice answered on the other end of the line. She was feeling dizzy, weaker than a few moments ago. 

Hello, I injured myself, the girl answered, grimacing. My wrist—it's cut pretty badly. 

Ok, what is your location? the voice asked. 

I'm bleeding—a lot 

I understand. What is your address? 

224 Evergreen Lane, Chelmsford, she answered seeing flashes of color dart across your vision. 

And how did this injury occur? She was having a hard time breathing. So much blood 

Hello? Did you hear me? How did this happen? The girl tried to answer and started slipping to the floor. she groaned, wincing. 

Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Listen, keep talking to me. Stay right there and talk to me. Hello? 

_I made a mistake._ She tried to speak but only succeeded to mouth the words. It wasn't pain that pulled at her anymore, but sleep. A restful darkness that took hold of her, and guided her away. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Peter, for crying out loud! If you don't even know where you're going, at least let me try to navigate us and avoid certain death! 

Peter Pan laughed and swerved to avoid hitting a gargantuan oak tree that had suddenly appeared directly in their path. A branch caught his cape, ripping a section of cloth away. Tink turned back, saw the obstacle and screamed bloody murder as she tried desperately to swing below the boughs, ducking just in time to miss a branch jutting out in her way. 

After spinning out of control for several seconds, the terrified pixie righted herself and caught up to boy, who was flying on as if nothing had happened. He started to smile, glancing at Tink. The look she gave him could have burned a city to the ground. 

It—you saw it, right? It just popped right up out of nowhere! he stammered. She didn't answer, only glowered at him. he protested sheepishly, lifting his hands in a gesture as if to say, What did I ever do?' Tink shook her head furiously. 

I almost became a permanent addition to the bark of that tree, Peter. 

Aw, Tink, he pouted. But you're fine now, right? He paused. No answer. 

Kettles and hobgoblins, Peter! she finally screamed. When I say to be organized, I mean it! Returning the Darlings was trouble enough. But simply dropping into a different time for no reason without a plan or a map is pure nonsense! It's positively insane! 

I do have a plan, Peter retorted. It's like Great Big Little Panther said: find the girl who lives in the dark, and bring the future to light. I have to find the Lost Boys a new mother. 

Tink rolled her eyes. How about that one, down there on the street corner? 

Silly! That's not even a girl! Peter giggled, spinning around, his eyes alight. Keep alert. We may find her at any moment. 

Listen, you dunderhead, Tinkerbell grated her teeth. I can't even tell where we are, much less WHEN we are. What's more, you're changing! Haven't you noticed? You've grown older! 

This got Peter's attention. he yelped in astonishment, swiveling back to his flying acquaintance. The look quickly changed to that of fury. What precisely do you mean, older? I don't get any older, in case you've forgotten! I'm Peter Pan, and Peter Pan NEVER grows up! 

Not Captain Hook older. Tink thought fast. It's more like a few years. Three or four, maybe. She topped sympathizing and frowned at him. But it's your own fault, do you hear me? You need to stop playing games, or you'll end up—Peter? Did you even hear what I just said? 

Peter wasn't listening. Did you hear that? he said quickly, putting a hand to his ear. It sounded like someone was calling for help. 

Tink said, exasperated. 

I'm going to investigate. Peter was yards away before Tink even realized what was happening. 

They hovered in the window, staring in shock at the scene inside the room. Oh, good heavens, Tink murmured. 

Peter stared hard at the glass. He began to pound against the second-story window, desperately trying to break the locks. Let me in! he yelled at no one in particular. Help! Somebody! 

Tink shuddered as she threw fairy dust on the grating. Don't get your hopes up, Peter, she sighed despondently. I think she may already be dead. 

Don't say that, he shot back bitterly at her, and then he was inside. 

Tink had a bad feeling about this one. Sadness was not something she could cure in Peter, and if the mortal was dead, there was nothing she could do. 

Blood stained the carpet all around the body. Peter knelt down, listening near her mouth for signs of life. He picked up her wrist, staining his hand as the dark liquid poured across it. She's still bleeding, he murmured. Tink, is that good or bad? 

I don't know. Tink flew up to the girl's mouth. 

She's not moving, Peter said frantically. 

Hold your horses, the fairy shouted. I don't hear any breathing. She sighed again. Well, there's only one way to be sure. Holding her breath, she gently touched the girl's forehead. 

It was as if lightning had shot through her small body. Tink saw flashes of light and darkness, pain and suffering, nightmares she didn't ever want to see again. The girl suddenly took in a huge shaky breath. She was breathing, Tink whispered. 

She's alive! Peter cried happily. 

Listen, Peter, Tink hovered in front of him, noticing the frantic sounds emanating from the end of a strange-looking device on the floor. You have a choice to make. We can leave her here, and her own people can try to save her life. She stopped, meeting his green eyes. But they may not get here in time. 

Then it's obvious! Peter cried. You have to use your magic to save her! He moved to sit the girl up. 

Tink continued sternly, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him, if I do this, if I save her, she has to come with us. Humans won't understand how she miraculously healed. It would cause complications that you cannot attempt to comprehend. She would never be able to return. She lowered her voice. she said slowly, she would have to remain in Neverland. Forever. 

Peter looked torn. Is she supposed to come with us? In shadow, in light—" He looked at the sunlight, the line on the carpet sloping across to meet her still form, separating night and day. Is she the one we came for? 

I don't know, Peter, Tink answered sadly. But you have to make a decision, and you have to do it now. 

Peter was lost in thought. He looked out the window, searching for a sign of adventure. He thought of the Darlings. He thought of the good-byes. Finally, he thought of the present, and turned his gaze to her pale face, so peaceful in sleep, her life slipping away second by second 

Tink cried. You have to decide, right now! 

I can't he cried. I can't think like this! 

Peter—" 

I don't know! I don't know! he yelled, looking around, eyes mad, cheeks flushed with anxiety, his mind about to explode. 

_JUST DO IT!_ he screamed, clenching his teeth. Peter lowered his voice. Do it now, Tink. 

They were flying, soaring above the rooftops. She had the sensation of floating on air, weightless. _Is this death?_ she thought. _I feel so cold_

She opened her eyes, and saw the clouds ahead. Then she realized that she was lying sideways, and rotated her head the other direction. She looked down. 

The ground was a hundred feet below her, and falling further away by the second. 

She screamed and curled into a ball. Except that she was already resting against someone else who was holding her. She raised her eyes. Her gaze met a face with sky-blue irises, ragged chestnut hair and an impish smile. 

Oh, good, you're awake, the teenage boy said, grinning. I'm Peter. This is Tinkerbell. He motioned with a hand, and the girl screamed again as his grip became half as strong. She saw the ground, hundreds of feet below. 

Don't look down, Peter said calmly. Never look down. 

Tink touched her forehead before she could scream a third time, and the girl immediately fell asleep. 

They always look down, Peter remarked, puzzled. He shrugged. 

Tink rolled her eyes again. 

What now? he asked. 

I cast a little spell, Tink replied pulling out a generous handful of fairy dust. The wound on the left wrist was only a small white scar, the blood having dried up in the bedroom when Tink had saved her life. 

What will it do? 

I'm taking away the memories of her family, friends, the people in her life, Tink answered matter-of-factly. All the events that caused her pain and sadness will be erased, so that she won't know what happened or how she met us. Otherwise, she'll miss her world too much and go mad. 

Why didn't you have to do that with Wendy? Peter demanded, worried about his new fosterling. 

Tink enunciated slowly, Wendy knew she was going to go back. The words hung suspended in the air between them, and the slience grew heavier. 

At last, Peter found his voice. He swallowed. I don't even know her name, Tink. 

For once, Tink couldn't think of anything to say. 

Somewhere in a pleasantly crowded suburb, the twilight crept between the houses in noiseless surrender, and the sun set on the open windows of a lonely room for the last time. 

  


To be continued...

Current and Upcoming Plot: When Slightly and Billy Jukes realise that everyone in Neverland is mysteriously growing up, Great Big Little Panther reveals an old warning he gave to Peter Pan: attachments to outsiders like Wendy, who has left the island, will eventually cause him to lose his childhood if they do not remain with him. With this new predicament, Peter and Tink set off into the Neverwhere mists, and discover an unexpected boon when they rescue and save the life of a melancholy girl from the future. Unfortunately, centuries collide, and the past and present meet in a violent collision of blades and loyalties. The Jolly Roger's interference throws a faction of pirates aboard the Sphynx into the Neverwhere void, including the cunning and malicious Francis Wittingthorn. A rakish and devious sociopath, Wittingthorn's cool demeanor and acridity of speech are only surpassed by his deadly aptitude with the blade. Even Hook appears impressed, and this "devil in fop's clothing" wastes no time in giving the original pirates a run for their money. Someone had better think of a plan - fast - because Wittingthorn wants nothing less than control over the heart of Neverland, and all the lives that come with it... 


	2. Puerto Bello, Part I

**neverland_is_forever@yahoo.com**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Puerto Bello, Part I**

"Full sail, Mason!" Hook shouted from on deck, watching his men unfurl the canvas with a grim satisfaction. "The Jolly Roger must have sufficient speed to set a course through those damnable mists." 

From his perch on the mainmast, Mullins stared out into the rolls of approaching fog. He shivered. "I can't see a blasted thing. 'Tis witchcraft, I say. We'll never make it out alive." 

"Cut it with the superstitious nonsense," Starkey snapped. "Don't you cause enough problems around here without fear as a distraction?" 

"I'll give you a distraction!" Mullins shouted, standing up on the wooden bar, swinging his sword to take swipes at the eloquent pirate of so many words. 

"Less jabbering, more hammering!" Hook's voice bellowed, echoing up from below. "Gall and brimstone! Get those ropes secured to the mast double quick, or I'll have you all dragged along with the anchor!" 

The men groaned and sped up the work pace. Mullins grumbled, sitting back down next to the crow's nest. "I'm tellin' ya," he turned to Jukes, "I'm gonna feel yards better when we're safely docked and looting on the coasts of the Spanish Main." 

Jukes said nothing, but nodded a little nervously, tensing and looking about him. 

Mullins continued. "Keep a sharp lookout, matey. I ain't never seen anything that comes _close_ to this stuff. There's no tellin' where we'll turn up!" He wiped the sweat off his brow and glanced out to sea again, as if expecting to spot flying banshees and specters looming on the horizon. 

"If we sailed into Neverland this way," Jukes commented, "it would be the most plausible route for sailing out." 

"Mayhap," Mullins shrugged. He leaned close to the young gunner and whispered in his ear. "There's evil in it, nonetheless." 

Jukes looked worried. "Aye, Mullins, but keep it to yourself. Don't let the Cap'n overhear you, or he'll string you up. You know how he hates talk about the supernatural." Jukes grabbed a coil of rope and busied himself with tying knots. You've even given me the creeps, and I don't scare easily." 

"BOO!" 

"Aaaah!" Billy jumped two feet into the air, trembling and shrieking. "Help! Help! Get it away from me!" 

Starkey rose up over the rim of the crow's nest and out of his eavesdropping spot, grinning. "I think you may be a few barrels shy of what we gentlemen prefer to call 'courage,' Jukes," he lazily remarked, accenting the name in an obnoxious manner. 

Billy immediately discovered the ruse. "Oh, it's just you," he replied sarcastically, pushing Starkey with one outstretched hand and sending him over the side He screamed and clung to a mast for dear life. 

"I say, that was quite uncalled for," Starkey gasped, fighting to secure a foothold. 

Jukes leaned over the side of the structure and waved down at him. "So sorry, old pal," he smirked. "My hand slipped." He grinned. 

"Sit down, lad," Mullins chuckled. "Save the energy for port." 

"I can see you're really itchin' for a fight." Billy watched Mullins polish his blade, admiration in his eyes. 

"It's been too long since I cut a man's throat." Mullins growled. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I've forgotten how!" 

"Zat not what I mees," Cookson piped up cheerily. "Me git some good grub 'n' ale in me. Fine vining and dining, ja!" 

The crewmembers looked at each other for a minute, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

"I say, Mason," Starkey gasped, wiping an eye, "What are you looking forward to, old chap?" 

"Gold. Lots of treasure," Mason answered. "I suppose you'll be after the wenches again, eh?" 

"Not wenches," Starkey corrected him, waving a finger. "Women! The finest lasses of the Western World, flocking in droves from the streets of Port Royal to the shores of the savage lands, all the way to Maracaibo's taverns!" he exclaimed. "All waiting for a debonair nobleman of class to sweep them off their feet with my unsurpassed wit and divine performances of poetry and prose." He adjusted the feather on his hat, imagining many scenes of charm and pleasantry with a smile. 

"Aw, isn't that sweet," Mason sighed, batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands in mock emotion. "Don't forget to bring your purse, _Sparky_. Their prices will go sky-high once they spot you." He smirked and shoved the startled pirate's hat down over his face. 

"That's- mmmph. NOT-Rrrph! FUNNY!" Starkey tugged at the cap and finally managed to tug it loose of his jaw, spitting out bits of fabric. The pirates were guffawing hysterically, trying not to lose their balance and fall off the narrow lengths of wood. 

"Careful there, Sparks, don't lose your temper!" Jukes laughed. 

The Englishman sniffed. "Coins, indeed," he muttered. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

The Mists. Time Unknown. 

"Are you sure Neverland is this way? We need to stop soon! I'm awfully tired." Peter's voice barely cut through the thick fog that blanketed the sky. 

"Of course I'm not sure! I can't see a blasted thing!" Tink exclaimed in exasperation. "We've gone too far, Peter. It didn't take half this long to travel into the future. We should turn around, now!" 

"Relax, Tink," Peter smiled self-assuredly. "The island's bound to be around here somewhere." 

The irked fairy sighed, too tired too argue. "Stupid…human," she yawned. 

The clouds shifted. Tink glanced ahead, did a double take, and darted over to Peter, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "Um. Peter, there's something you ought to know." 

"Ssh!" the boy whispered. He peered into the unconscious girl's face. "I think she's waking up." 

"This is important!" 

"Not now, Tink." 

"But Peter-" 

"I said, not right now! Can't you see that I'm-" 

He never had a chance to finish. There was a low, rumbling sound, and a loud shriek followed. Tink barely had time to yank Peter downwards before a cannonball nearly took off his head. It whizzed past them in the air, the deadly arc narrowly missing its target before plunging back towards the sea below. 

Peter lifted his head up, astonished. A standard shot couldn't reach that far, not to mention that high. It was unattainable perfection. No one was that good. 

"That nearly killed us," he said quietly. He looked down at the miles of ocean, then at Tink, nonplussed. "We're above water?" 

"I was trying to tell you about our present… complications," Tink replied crossly. "Apparently, we seem to have traveled a little farther back in time than I'd hoped. The ships in the harbor over there, and the fortifications-" Tink rapidly indicated the images on the coastline in succession, "-look Spanish to me. That is, if I remember my mortal history correctly." The fairy squinted, trying to make out the blurs from a couple of miles away. "And judging from the climate, the designs of the walls and the gunnery, I'd say we're stuck somewhere in the late sixteenth or seventeenth century Spanish Main." 

"Well, that's a new one." Peter bent to check the girl's breathing, then straightened, realizing what was wrong. "The mists!" he cried, swiveling around frantically. "Where are they? We can't get home!" 

"I know, dunderhead. We'll have to wait here temporarily. They'll return in a couple of hours, a day at most." 

"A day?!?" Pan screamed. "We don't _have_ a day to work with here! Your patient is comatose!" 

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Peter," Tink admonished scornfully. "She'll be fine, really. Besides, I'm a little more concerned about _this_ little problem at the moment." She pointed to the galleon that had attacked them. It was less than several hundred yards off. A flag clearly displaying a skeleton and bleeding heart waved in the breeze. "I'd suggest flying out of firing range and fast. Although I have no idea why anyone would think to fire up here, or at us…" 

Before she could say anything to stop him, Pan swooped lower, nearing the mainmast. "What the-" he murmured. He stopped short, paling. It was impossible. 

"Not to alarm you or anything," Tink shouted, "but they're reloading!" 

He knew that ship. No wonder the shot was so perfect! The lone, sleek gunman, the cannon molded like an alabaster statue, and a large man in black, adjusting his hat with a curiously odd- shaped hand that gleamed in the mid-afternoon sun... 

"Tink, go!" Peter yelled, turning around and flying as fast as he possibly could. His muscles ached from holding his refugee for so long. And we're centuries from home… 

"As if I wouldn't!" Tinkerbell answered, zooming up beside him and the stirring girl. "Did you see anything?" 

"Yes," Peter grimaced. "I saw Hook." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"Peter Pan spotted! Four degrees off the port bow!" Mullins shouted, peering through an eyeglass at the figures traveling fast towards shore. 

"Aiming there now," Billy Jukes answered, straining to wheel Long Tom around for another. 

"Aye, Jukes," Hook remarked cynically. "But will you fire in time, or will Pan have reached shore before you've loaded?" He turned to the remainder of the crew, summoned on deck. "Well?" he shouted. They fell over each other, scrambling to assist the young gunner. 

"Shell and mortar?" 

"Blast him out of the skies." 

"Yes, sir. You heard him, Jukes!" Smee repeated sternly. "Blast him out of the skies, and double-quick. Hurry up, ya lazy bilge rat!" 

Jukes gritted his teeth. _Bilge rat? Someday I'll show you what it's really like to pump the hold,_ he thought silently. 

Billy was steaming, but he swallowed his pride and shoved the necessary powder in the barrel in silence. The rest of the crew was about as able to work the artillery as Smee was capable of evading stupidity for more than a minute. Luckily, the reserve cannon gallery rarely required use, and Jukes knew the Jolly Roger wouldn't survive a battle without him. So he continued to work without protest. 

The gunner stepped up to the fuse with flame in hand, tensed and waiting for the Captain's signal. 

"Fire!" Hook shouted. 

At the captain's command, Jukes held his breath and lowered the stick to the cannon. 

The gunpowder exploded in a flash of sparks, shaking the deck as the missile launched from its holster. The extra gunpowder was dangerous, but hitting a flying target at that distance required no less than a full kick. 

"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n," Mason interrupted. "But are we gonna chase that boy all day if we miss, or are we gonna raid like pirates?" He shook his head. "Did the lad follow us?" 

"I know neither his origins nor his oracles, Mr. Mason. That boy is free to tramp about and follow whatever fate he pleases." The contempt in Hook's voice was unmistakable. "It serves common logic to make the best of our present circumstances," the captain chortled, an evil glint in his eyes, "and that is precisely what we are doing. If he escapes, Pan will eventually return to Neverland. And rest assured, we will be there to give him a warm welcome." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"Look out!" Tink cried. Peter could fly at a decent speed, but Jukes had predicted the trajectory to line up with his pace. The cannonball was in his path before he had ever flown it. 

The shell exploded, sending shrapnel whistling through the air as Pan threw himself to one side and Tink to the other. Peter's nosedive towards the sea rudely shook the girl, wresting her from unconsciousness. It was less of an awakening than it was a free fall towards the water. 

She didn't have time to scream. They fell almost a hundred feet, the blue rushing up at lightning speed with nothing to stop them from meeting it. She shut her eyes, gasping for sanity right before they hit. 

Suddenly, she wasn't falling anymore. The girl opened her eyes, astounded to find that she and Pan were gliding a few feet above the waves. Peter had righted himself and resumed his steady grasp so that she wouldn't fall. 

"What- _what the hell was that?"_ The words emerged in a half-whisper, a mixture of shock, fear and rage blending into one disbelieving voice. 

"Oh, so you _can_ talk. That's always a good sign." His answer seemed like self-amusement. Peter laughed heartily as they swooped up into the air, now out of the Jolly Roger's firing range. 

"Of course I can talk!" the girl shot back. "Who the hell are you? Where are we? And how in the heck are we FLYING?!?" 

Tink reappeared beside them. "Are you all right?" she asked Peter, eyes bright with worry. Tink noticed the girl. "She's awake! Does she seem fully recovered?" 

Ignorant as he was, Peter lifted a hand to put it on her chest and check her breathing. She slapped him hard in the face. "I'd say definitely close to it." 

"Ha!" Tink snorted. "You're going to get us all killed someday, Peter Pan!" 

"Not likely," he confidently replied. "What's your name, strange lady from the future?" 

"Her name's Evangeline Winterson. It was on that card we saw on her bag. Try not to be so pushy. She won't remember much of anything right now!" 

"All right, all right," Peter grumbled. "Sheesh. I was just curious." He shrugged. "Anyway, that's too long a title. Henceforward, I shall call you Eve." 

Eve looked at the two of them, thinking that they were both completely insane. "Okay…" 

"So what do we do now, Tink?" Pan asked. 

"We fly towards civilization, that's what," she answered, passing them to veer straight towards the harbor ahead, as if it was the most obvious question in the world. 

The port was a living being- a bustling, thriving center of commerce in the midst of tropical wilderness. Armed on both sides with formidable cliffs, there was little beside the man-made walls lying along the rocks to separate the dense foliage that stretched hundreds of miles inland to the mountains from the town itself. Fortifications spanned the outer perimeters of the bay, the new pearl color of whitewashed brick gleaming in the late afternoon sun. 

There were merchant ships lined up in the harbor, budging for space in a city that wouldn't stop moving. The shipping industry fed the endless train of people and goods that wove its way around the docks and into the narrow streets beyond. Fish, jewels ten times more costly than gold, fine silks from the East Indies-it was all on display, passing from one hand to the next as the wealthy inhabitants exchanged coin for wares. 

Ever cautious, Tink led them around the battlements, flying low along the walls so that they wouldn't be spotted. "Wait here," she whispered, and disappeared around a corner. Peter and Eve crouched down, not making a sound. 

In a few minutes, the fairy returned, motioning for them to follow her. The trio crept along pushed up against the ramparts until there were no more guards. Then they moved onto the little dirt side road that eventually led into the village. 

Suddenly, Eve let out a shriek and jumped off the path, startling the others. 

"What's wrong?" Tink cried. Trembling, Eve pointed to a large wooden barricade on the left several hundred yards off. A musket barrel stuck out of a window, at it pointed straight at them. 

"Oh, that," Tink dismissed the girl's suspicions with a wave of her hand. "I put the guards in _that_ lookout to sleep." She flew up to the window and tapped on the barrel of the gun with her toes. "See? They're perfectly harm-" 

BAM! 

The shot hissed past them a foot from Peter's ear and ricocheted off the far wall. Eve yelped and ducked again. Peter gave Tink a look that would fry the Ice Caverns. 

"Heh," Tinkerbell gave a sheepish grin and shifted nervously from side to side, scuffing her feet. "Maybe I should have taken their fingers… off the triggers?" 

Peter just crossed his arms and glared. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Mullins paced the back and forth impatiently. "Cap'n, I know I's askin' a repeated question here, but when are we gonna go in there and do some real buccaneering? We've been stationed in this here cove for hours!" 

"The anticipation of the prize, dear Robert, should always earn appreciation equivalent to the act itself," Hook replied, sipping champagne from a glass that Smee attempted to balance on a silver tray. "Like fine wine, acts of barbarity are all the more enjoyable if taken in measure." 

"Cap'n Hook! Six ships spotted off the coastline at seven leagues, sir!" 

Hook sputtered, choking on the drink. The Bosun, frightened as ever, raised the tray to his face in a cowering defense. 

"No, wait! Correction-make that eight!" 

This time, he spit out the liquid entirely. "By Lucifer's beard!" Hook roared, and as Smee finally lowered the tray, the Captain swung his arm around, smashing the glass smack in the middle of Smee's forehead. "Make up your mind, Mr. Jukes, before my hook does it for you!" 

"Eight, sir," Billy replied, squinting into the glass. "The leader is an English flagship with La Jolie Rouge displayed." 

Hook cursed and heaved himself up onto the rigging, climbing until he reached the crow's nest. "Give me that blasted thing," he snapped, grabbing the spyglass from Jukes. At first, his face showed no emotion at all as he scanned the horizon, inspecting the ships and discerning their intentions. Then a broad grin spread across his face from ear to ear, and his rich laughter echoed across the decks. 

"Captain?" Starkey inquired from the bow. 

"Not to worry, men," the Captain chuckled, tossing the device back to Jukes. "It seems that a dear, old friend of mine has come to call on yonder port this evening." He addressed the entire crew from above, a smile of feral-like satisfaction lighting up his features. "I believe you wretched cullies might just end up with more action than you ever bargained for." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"This can't be real," Eve whispered, incredulous. "I'm dreaming. I am not walking around in a Central American outpost of the Conquistadors. I am not trying to look inconspicuous in jeans while talking to a pixie, hidden under the cloak of a boy who claims he's the living embodiment of a fictional legend. Better yet, I am _not_ having a nervous breakdown." 

"Fairy, not pixie!" Tink hissed from her hiding place. "Fairy! Fae and pixies are two entirely different species altogether." 

"Right, of course. How could I forget?" Eve exclaimed sarcastically. "It's already been at least, oh, _two hours_ since a flying boy nearly dropped me a hundred feet into the Caribbean, and that was after a ship that's been extinct for three hundred years tried to blow us to bits with an exploding cannonball. I've had plenty of time to learn all about the plentiful kingdoms of the supernatural that aren't supposed to exist. I should practically be a living encyclopedia on the subject by now!" 

"Ssh!" Peter warned. "Tink's joking around. But we need to talk in a place a little less open than this. And we'll be lucky if we find someone who speaks English around here. I don't understand a word of what they're saying." He indicated towards the dozens of people that were passing by the group on the street, giving them odd looks and speaking in a Spanish dialect. 

"Pan's right," Tink whispered. She peeked out and took a quick glance of the area. "See that wide, busy street over there? Go down that one. We're bound to run into a tavern or inn of some sort, and I have a few gold coins left over from a bet I won with Queen Titania recently." 

Peter ducked his head. "Healing powers, memory loss, sleeping spells, and now gambling in Tintagel?" He clucked. "Tink, Tink, Tink, when are you finding time to acquire all this knowledge?" 

"Well, what do you think I do when you're off screwing things up? Brush my hair?" 

"Who's Titania?" Eve asked. "Never mind," she added quickly, sighing. "I don't want to know." 

The first tavern they ran across, The Menagerie, wasn't incredibly crowded. Peter chose a table near the back of the inn, where the lamps didn't reach as well as they did in the rest of the room. A tall blonde girl nearing twenty sauntered over. To their surprise, she knew to speak English. "My name's Jezebel. What can I get for you today?" the girl drawled, in what Eve immediately recognized as a French accent. 

"Just water, for now," Eve answered. "We're not hungry right now." 

Jezebel smirked, tossing her air and flashing her emerald eyes at Peter. "Well, then, is there anything else that you want?" 

Tink was ready to explode. Eve tried not to roll her eyes in disgust. _I guess we picked the wrong tavern,_ she thought ruefully. _Looks like this one's a lot less reputable than we thought._ Then again, she was severely lacking on the particular details of saloon history. 

Peter remained innocently clueless. "Actually, yes. We're looking for information about the town, and where one might rest for the night." 

The girl snorted. "Ha! I could tell by your strange clothes and your English. You're not from anywhere near here, are you?" 

"No, _I_ come from the twenty-first century," Eve muttered. Pan kicked her under the table. "Ow!" 

"You might say that," Peter smoothly interjected. "We traveled with one of the ships docked here, and we're going to rest for a bit in your wonderful establishment of…" 

"Puerto Bello," the barmaid finished. "I traveled with the French household that founded this inn two years ago. I'll be back later." With that, the voluptuous girl gestured proudly towards the front of the room, gave a wink and strode off. 

The group inclined their necks, straining to see the writing on the plaque above the door where Jezebel had pointed. 

"Mercy," Eve breathed. The others just stared. 

There, where the last dying rays of golden light arched along the wall and illuminated the bronze plate, etched in bold script, were the words they didn't want to believe. 

"It's in Latin," Eve thought aloud, and she felt her throat tighten involuntarily as she read the words. "The Menagerie, founded by the Volere family, ANNO DOMINI MDCLXVI. In the Year of Our Lord, 1666." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"It's been a long time, old friend." 

"Quite so." 

They were two pirate leaders, both cunning and eloquent beyond average expectations. One was a straight and simple man of the tongue, the other a warrior behind a mask of finery, ruthless and a born leader. The two men could not have lived more differently, yet they shared a common ground unique to their particular occupation- a patriotic adherence to English honor. 

The pirates of the Jolly Roger had boarded the first of the arriving ships, the Oxford, and they were more than a little nervous. It was not merely because more than four hundred and fifty men combined waited on board the group of ships, nor because the whole lot of them were bloodthirsty, savage, desperate men willing to do anything for jewels and gold. It was because their leader, who was clasping Hook's hand and pulling him into a warm embrace, was Sir Henry Morgan, the most successful, notorious, and feared pirate of the Western Hemisphere. And he was standing less than five feet from them. 

"So, dear man, what are you doing in this part of the ocean?" Morgan asked, slapping Hook on the shoulder. "Mind if I drink?" He chuckled, taking a goblet and a bottle from one of his crew and pouring a full glass of red wine. Then he put the entire remaining contents to his lips and swigged a mouthful down. He glanced at Hook again out of the corner of his eye. "That's for you, by the way." 

"Henry-" the Captain started. 

"I never got drunk from one sip, and that's all I intend to have. My crew and I have important business to attend to this night." 

Hook raised an eyebrow. "Really? Such as…" 

Morgan twisted the bottle in his fingers, gently placing it on a barrel before walking steadily back to Hook. He looked him straight in the eyes. "Such as sacking Puerto Bello." 

"Hook paused. "Puerto Bello?" He asked nonchalantly. 

"Come now, Hook, let's not be coy. I have the papers. It's perfectly legal; the letters of marque are from the governor of Jamaica himself. Were you planning a little midnight raid, old boy?" 

"If I were," Hook remarked impassively, "it would be the first time in eons." 

Morgan grinned. "You are! I propose," he offered generously, "that you join me in this fight to defend the safety of our British colonials. The word is out that the Spaniards are mounting an attack upon Port Royal. But we're going to go in there and clean _them_ out instead, you see." He twirled the end of his thin moustache, a naughty gleam in his eyes. 

The Captain was mulling it over. "Puerto Bello is the third strongest fortified city in the Spanish Main. Pray tell, do you truly expect to pull this heist off?" 

Morgan knew he was wavering. "Let me worry about the details. I'll let you keep your share of the profits and pick out whatever spoils you prefer, so long as you fight with us in the battles." 

Hook knew when to give up. _Any option is better than a mutinous crew,_ he thought. _Even a dead one. If they want action, they can have it._ "Agreed." They shook hands, and a vast majority of the crowd on deck cheered, hooted and hollered. A pirate's oath was his bond. The war was on. 

"Now," Morgan continued, effortlessly winning over the men with his cavalier attitude, "this will require us to move swiftly, and in two different directions at once. The attack on the fort by the embankment commences in five hours. We break them at dawn." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Puerto Bello, Middle Americas - June 5th, 1668. 

"I still don't understand," Eve protested. "How did you find me? And why did you take me with you?" 

"I don't know how," Peter responded truthfully. "Luck, I suppose." 

"You were bleeding to death," Tink explained. "That's mainly what caught our attention." She traced her fingers across the white scars on Eve's wrists. They had diminished to fine hairlines, a side effect of Tink's magic. "That's also what left those behind." 

"What?" Eve's voice rose in panic. "I almost died? Why? Was someone trying to hurt me?" 

"Actually, you see-" Peter started, but Tink shot him a warning glance. They looked at each other, and then back at her. "We don't know," the pair answered simultaneously. 

Eve looked at them, dismayed. "It's strange… I know there was pain, and this feeling of incredible sorrow and melancholy. I just can't remember." She shook her head in frustration as if trying to clear it. 

"Everything's muddled and blurry. I see places I've traveled to, hobbies I've picked up, school, work, but I can't name anyone or see any of their faces…" Eve buried her head in her hands. Her face had the forlorn look of a lost child. 

"How old are you, Evangeline?" Tink asked gently, crawling out of her hiding place after checking that nobody was watching them. 

Eve raised her head and sniffled, her eyes wet. "Old enough to know I'm not supposed to believe in Neverland." 

"No one's too old for Neverland!" Pan scoffed. 

"People grow up. People age. People realize that they can't have their dreams and that the world is nothing but an illusion, and then they find jobs and make families and fade away. They die." Eve's voice was bitter, and she had no idea why. 

"It's real, you know," Tink continued softly. "The land is full of magic and promises. Miracles incomprehensible, unconquered in the wildest and purest of minds." She spoke with a noiseless excitement. Eve almost believed she was whispering dreams using the very air itself, that Tink was speaking to her alone, that it had always been that way. This was what she wanted, what she had searched for beyond the brevity of childhood happiness, the truth behind the myth. 

"Once we return, you'll never want for anything ever again, and all of the aching, the sadness, the regrets- they'll all disappear. Forever." Eve stopped crying. _There was so much I needed to do…_ but she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember one moment. And the whole world was revolving in Tink's eyes… 

An hour later, Jezebel approached their table again. Peter was finishing his dinner, his miniature companion conveniently hidden once more. "Enjoy that?" she purred. 

"Why, yes," Peter replied amicably. "I'm afraid my cousin did not last long enough to enjoy your entrée, alas." He gestured to Eve, whose head rested on her arms, her form rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. 

"I recall you saying that you needed a room for the night." Jezebel picked up his empty plates, balancing them on one arm. "We only have one bed left here, and it's in the women's quarters. But the inn down the street has space, if I'm not mistaken." She looked back over one shoulder. "Although I'm not sure you want to take your kin there." 

"My gracious thanks," Peter remarked, smiling. "I guess we'll be on our way, and… wait! What did you say?" 

"Oh, nothing," Jezebel sighed, staring at the ceiling. "It's just that the Grape and Horns may not be the best place for a proper lady to stay. Honor, virtue and all the rest. It's quite rough in that part of town at night." 

"The last thing I want to do is risk her life," Peter stalled, uncertain of what Tink would say. "Tink?" he whispered. But there was no answer. She was asleep, too. 

"Did you say something?" Jezebel asked suspiciously. 

"Nothing," Peter responded hastily. "What do you suggest?" 

"Well," the barmaid lowered voice, leaning close to Peter so as not to wake Eve, "best not to expose your blood relation to a possible affront on her dignity. Like I said, we have a bed open. Your charge could stay here with us and have a good night's slumber. You're a man and don't appear wealthy, so you would probably be all right at the other inn." 

"How much?" Peter questioned warily. 

"Ten sovereigns," she answered, not moving her eyes from his. 

The boy shifted nervously. _Think, Pan,_ he mentally scolded himself. _What would Tink do?_ He weighed the odds of landing in a bad situation where he would have to defend them both. It might never happen… but what if it did, and they both ended up lying in some back alley gutter? He shuddered. 

Peter knew Tink wouldn't like the idea of leaving Eve alone. He also knew that she would be cranky for hours if he woke her up, and that even if the fairy hated the girl, she wasn't vicious enough to deliberately lead her into a lethal situation. Try as he might, Pan could not imagine a better option than the one Jezebel had offered. 

He sighed. "Take your money, and see that she is well looked after 'till the morning. I will return for her after breakfast." 

"Of course," Jezebel smiled, feeling the coins drop into her hand. They burned like fire as her palm closed over them into a delicate fist. 

Peter glanced down at the sleeping girl and smiled, letting his hand rest on hers. "Sleep safely, Eve," he murmured. He headed towards the door. _I hope I've done the right thing…_ Peter turned back one last time, released his breath and headed off into the cooling night air. In moments, he was gone. 

Jezebel leaned on the counter to stare at the girl, a wry, satisfied look on her face. She remained that way until a bustling, heavyset, middle-aged woman noticed and walked over to her. "What are you so proud about?" she demanded loudly. 

The coy waitress dropped one coin into the elder's hand. "A big tip," she remarked carelessly, leaving the employee with nothing more until she lost interest and wandered off. A secret smile played at the corners of Jezebel's mouth. "A gift." 

On to Part 2 

Copyright © 2001 Cassandra Lynne.   
May not copied or reproduced without permission. 


	3. Puerto Bello, Part II

**neverland_is_forever@yahoo.com**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Puerto Bello, Part II**

The Indian Village, Neverland. 

The sky had turned a forbidding gray color, and the clouds had gathered together in a thick blanket, appearing out of nowhere to block the sunlight. An ominous chill hung in the air, the creeping, hushed stillness that overcomes midday laughter in the bloodless usurping of a summer day. It was the calm before the storm. 

Slightly, Curly and Nibs wandered between the teepees, inconspicuously observing the activities within while searching for a certain shaman that could answer their burning questions. 

"I told you he wouldn't be here today," the towheaded leader grumbled. "He's gone to the River of Night to commune with the spirit world at the Sacred Temple!" 

"For the last time, Nibs," Slightly answered, extremely annoyed, "I never said you had to come." 

"Will you two just shut up before we disturb the entire settlement?" Curly hissed. "It won't take that long to finish looking, and if we don't find him, what's bad about paying a visit to Hard-to-Hit and Tiger Lily?" 

Nibs sighed. "Fine, fine. Just keep your eyes peeled, okay? I don't want to be here all afternoon." 

Curly peered into one of the sizeable tents at the end of the row. "Psst! Hey guys! Over here!" Curious, the others wandered over at his frantic waving. 

Even though Curly closed the tent flap behind them, an eerie greenish light somehow permeated the room. "Looks like the chief did a little redecorating," Slightly commented. 

Rows and rows of herbs, candles, vials and tinted glass bottles lined the walls. Bizarre, fantastic liquids swirled in every crevice, creating an opalescent shimmering effect, like pearls drifting beneath the waves. Piles of strange objects and stones lay in the corners; yellowed books stacked high with ancient knowledge held a treasure trove of binding spells, chants and incantations. The shaman kept a magician's cornucopia. 

"I feel like we've just found the mermaids' secret caverns," Nibs whispered in hushed tones. The others nodded in agreement, rubbing their arms. 

"It looks as though you are in need of advice of some great importance," boomed a voice from behind them. 

The boys spun around and practically ran into the tall figure filling the entrance. "Great Big Little Panther!" Slightly cried. "Uh, I mean, that is… we have a slight problem on our hands that we thought needed your attention. You see, Wendy's gone forever, so she isn't going to be a big help, and Tink went with Peter to the future, so we all _know_ they're going to miss supper. Not that most of it doesn't end up on the walls anyway, but-" 

"Silence," the shaman waved his hand, and the boys crept closer together. "I know why you have come." He walked past them towards the center of the giant tent and indicated towards log benches surrounding the fire. "Sit." They scrambled. 

"I have seen many portents," he continued, "of times to come. Great hardships lie ahead, and the outcomes of events are uncertain." The Chieftain sprinkled dust from one of his pouches on the fire. "The spirits are restless once more, hungry to escape the bonds of the underworld that lies next to ours." 

As the boys watched with fear and anticipation, Great Big Little Panther lifted his hands, and a column of purple smoke shot straight up from the fire. It curled outwards, wrapping itself around the Lost Boys. "The darkness is never really dead. It is always there, lying dormant, waiting for the day when its land can merge with our own." 

As they watched in horror, the mists became faces, horrible twisted shapes that hissed and screamed, crying for vengeance and bloodshed. A low keening noise, almost beyond the realm of hearing, snaked around the room, demonic and horrible to the ears. A shudder slid down Curly's spine, and the others had to fight the urge to scream. 

"The Heart of Neverland is the secret of its immortality. It has the power to keep the forces of nature in balance, and preserve the boundaries between good and evil, the living and the dead, the light and the darkness." A glow materialized in the middle of the room, a warm aura that extended and grew, and the monsters slowly faded away. "Once we have lived in Neverland long enough, we become a part of its life force," the shaman explained. 

Familiar faces drifted in and out of the mists. Happy memories of the Lost Boys listening to Wendy's stories, scenes of the Jolly Roger and Pan's fights with Hook, volleyball with the mermaids. Nibs gazed on the scenes, transfixed. He reached out to grasp one, then remembered that they were only air. "Peter allowed Wendy and her brothers to stay too long; they grew into our tree of life. When they left, they took a significant amount of that life force with them. That is why everyone is three years older than before. One year for each soul gone." 

Slightly sighed. "I don't mind looking older, as long as Pan does as well. For most of us, it hasn't made a huge difference." 

"I would have advised Peter and Tink, if I had seen them sooner," Great Big Little Panther intoned sternly, "not to bring anyone else back from the other world. If he does, allowing them to leave could cost us more than mere time." 

"You mean… whoever returns with Peter will have to remain here- forever?" Curly gulped. 

The Chieftain sighed. "I do not know. But I have already foreseen the arrival of many foreigners in the near future." He spread his palms to the ceiling, and all at once, the entire room blazed with symbols, writing in the language of the Indians, scattered across the walls and floor, glowing in a plethora of colors and shapes. "What Fate has written, the stars must follow in their course. And so it will continue, the exchanging of lives, for many moons to come." 

"Who do you see, Panther?" Curly asked, his eyes wide. 

He lifted his face. "Many newcomers from the past, one with a dark mind and darker purpose still. And a stranger from a faraway land I have never seen…" He shook his head. "This one is different. Not harmful, but full of understanding. Yet there is much frustration and anguish… it is unclear how this ends. I worry." 

"I don't know much about magic," Nibs said slowly, tracing one of the patterns on the ground with his fingertips. But Shaman," he inquired, meeting Panther's gaze with troubled eyes, "what does it all mean? Are you casting spells against someone?" 

The boys held their breath. Panther rarely used magic to interfere in others' actions. In fact, they couldn't remember him using sand incantations since Hook had stolen them and almost destroyed Neverland. 

"Indeed not," he replied. "They are spells of protection, to ward off evil. Your friends are in grave danger." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Puerto Bello. 

"Get up! Move! We haven't got all night!" Jezebel shoved the sleeping girl awake. 

"Wha-?" Eve mumbled, raising her head and blinking. _Where's Peter?_

"Yes, that's right," Jezebel snapped. "You're back in the real world now, and in the real world, we earn our rent." 

"Where's Peter?" Eve demanded groggily. "I know he can pay whatever it costs to stay here." 

"You mean your cousin? He lied to you, darling. He didn't have any money. He's working off a night's rent somewhere else, because we've only the single bed in the back left." 

"But-" Eve smelled foul play. _Peter and Tink wouldn't really leave me all alone here without telling me… would they?_ Her stomach was starting to turn. Whether it was from hunger or panic, she didn't know. 

"What do I have to do?" she asked warily, crossing her arms. 

"First of all," Jezebel replied, giving her the once-over, "You'll need to change your clothes." She took Eve's hand and pulled her into a back room. 

"Shut the door." The barmaid dug into a nearby chest and threw various sets of clothing on the bed as Eve stared blankly. Finally, having found a piece that was satisfying to her taste, she tossed a bunch of red and white cloth at Eve and closed the lid. 

Eve stood there in disbelief. "You want me to wear this?" She let the dress fall out into shape. 

"Color is good in this tavern," Jezebel shrugged. "People know you work here. Well? What are you waiting for?" 

Sighing, Eve changed into the clothes, sliding on the boots the waitress handed her and standing up. Jezebel immediately hopped onto a nearby table and began to change her hair before she could protest. 

"What if Peter returns and doesn't find me because he's looking for my old outfit?" 

Jezebel smirked. "I doubt it. Crimson tends to stand out. Come on, then, what was it? Eve." She jumped down. You're not eating until you work, and it's going to be a long, busy night." 

Four hours later, Eve was starving and dizzy from the heat of the room. The colors were too bright, the bar too crowded. She could barely keep her head up to serve drinks for her customers. 

"Here's your ale, sir," she sighed quietly, switching back to English after using her small knowledge of French in order to set a glass down for a young sailor sitting at the end of the bar. 

"Hey there, wait just a minute, lass," he said, grabbing her arm. "I've been wanting to talk to you all night." 

Eve rolled her eyes. _Another drunken Dutchmen. Just what I need._ "I'm busy, sir. I have to work." But when she pulled away again, he yanked back, swinging her around the corner of the countertop. "What's your name, tart?" he grinned, and a bunch of his comrades burst out laughing. 

"Get your hands off me!" she hissed, leaping away. "Jezebel! Jezebel!" But the fair-haired girl was at the other end of the bar. 

"Hey Jezzie!" the man yelled lazily, and to her amazement, he actually got the occupied barmaid's attention. "How much for this one?" 

Jezebel laughed. "Eve? Sorry, Maryn, that'll cost ya." 

"Oh?" He slid a bag of coins across the counter at her as Eve watched incredulously, mouth hanging open. Her countenance wavered between shock, disgust, and blind rage. 

Counting the money, Jezebel said, "It's late and we're full. Tomorrow. Will you still be in port?" 

Maryn didn't look happy, but he nodded. "I always come here, Jezzie," he smirked, looking Eve up and down. "I just have to remember why." 

Eve marched up to Jezebel and dragged her out of earshot. "What are you doing?" she gasped. 

"I'm letting you have a job," Jezebel replied, into even looking up from her purse. "What does it look like I'm doing?" 

Suddenly, Eve felt sick. "This is a brothel. The restaurant is only a front." 

"Of course. What did you expect? That I can make a living under the innkeeper from Hell as a waitress?" She tucked the money into a band under her skirt. 

"You can't force me to do this! I'm leaving," Eve spat. Jezebel took two steps and blocked her way. 

"And just where exactly do you think you'll go?" she hissed into Eve's ear. "You don't even know where your cousin is. I do. With one word, I can have you both hanged as spies." Her malicious tone didn't escape Eve's hearing. "They don't take kindly to the English around here." 

The new barmaid choked. The nausea in her stomach was rising again, and she struggled to breathe as the tears started to fall. _Whatever happens, I'll find a way out of this. I'll find Peter tomorrow._ "Fine." 

"Eat something. You look like death." Jezebel left her there, and Eve slumped down on a stool, a sob threatening to escape her throat. _I want to go home._ She covered her mouth, tasting bile. The room was spinning. _I don't even know where home is._

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Dawn. 

Hook glanced at the hills, watching the explosion of the outpost with a satisfied grin. "That's our signal, men! They're invading the town. Signal the other ship and move out!" 

In seconds, the deck was alive with shouting, and both the crews of the Jolly Roger and the Oxford were racing forward with the surprise attack. They would have to act quickly to avoid the sentries waking both of the strongholds; several lights had already gone on by the southern ridge. 

"Let's give the fort over there a warm pirate welcome, shall we, Mr. Jukes?" Hook pointed at the nearest cliff. "Fire when ready." 

"Aye, aye, Cap'n." Billy lit the fuse and sent a roaring message to the dozing guards above. 

Within minutes, the ships had devoured the main buttresses of the forts protecting the harbor, and they were sailing into Puerto Bello's main cove. Mullins and Cookson frantically mixed an oil and pitch into a liquid in a canister as Jukes motioned for them to hurry. "We're in position!" he screamed. "What's taking so long?" 

"Ready aaz veel ever bee," Cookson responded, loading the cannon. "Zees Greek Fire vill vork? I never even heard uhv eet, and I vrom dere!" 

Jukes laughed. "Trust me, it'll work." He put a match in the jar and sent the mixture sailing over the ships in the harbor, spraying them with burning patches of fuel. Mere moments passed before all of the merchant ships were in flames. There was no escape for the people of the town. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

The Menagerie. 

Eve groaned. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be too early to wake up. Glancing at the remains of her dinner of bread and undercooked chicken, she made a sound of disgust and pulled herself out of the straw bed. She didn't even want to think about how dirty it probably was, or how much everyone smelled. 

Out of nowhere, a flying object smashed into the lone window of the room, imploding the panes and sending shards of glass flying everywhere. The torch rolled over to the door and came to a stop, inches from Jezebel's face. 

She opened her eyes, grumbling. "Eve, this had better be goo-" She took one look at the torch that was burning into the wooden framework, and let out a scream that could have woke the dead. 

"Water! Get water!" She dashed out of the room while Eve smothered the torch with a blanket. Jezebel returned, nearly tripping over her in the process. Luckily, the fire hadn't spread quickly, and they extinguished the door with relative ease. 

"What in blazes…" Jezebel wandered over to the window frame, and Eve scrunched up behind her to see where it had come from. 

"Blazes is right," Eve whispered. 

It was a living nightmare. Under the pink rays of sunlight, a massacre unfolding right in front of them. Crowds of brigands ran through the streets, shooting randomly at any passersby unfortunate to be in range. Half of the block was ablaze, and groups of men with torches were moving on to other homes and shops, setting everything on fire. Pirates carried chests, armchairs, silverware, and even paintings into the street, piling up their takings like goods at an auction. Screams of terror cut through the air. 

Amidst the looting, pillaging and plundering, the citizens of Puerto Bello cowered in street corners, carrying possessions they had grabbed in haste, hoping to escape the violence. Most did not. Men on horseback rounded them up and marched them away. Occasionally, one could see buccaneers enter homes and carrying out screaming women and children to join the twisted parade of hostages. In a few instances, they dragged the women back inside. 

"Dear God," Jezebel murmured, trembling. "Raiders." 

"Get away from the window!" Eve hissed, tugging at her arm. "Did the others find out already?" 

As if in answer to her question, a group of shrieking women pounded down the stairs, pushing and shoving each other in their desperation to exit onto the streets. 

"Well, that's one way to do it." Eve shrugged her shoulders. 

Jezebel thought hard. At last she moved again and reached under the support beams of her bed, grasping the money strapped there. "We'll never make it out of the town alive. They're streaming in from the western road. Follow me. I have another idea." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Billy Jukes raced along the docks, throwing himself into the melee with the rest of the pirates. He had lost sight of Hook, but it didn't matter. The city was theirs for the taking. 

"Matey! Over here!" Mullins shouted. The gunner ran up to his shipmate, who was struggling with the clasp to a small chest. "Here, let me try," Jukes offered, attempting to ignore the cries of doom and destruction echoing around him. 

"Locks. I hate these things," Mullins grunted. He dropped the box, pulled out a pistol, and shot the lid open on the first try. 

"Or we could do it that way," Billy replied. 

"Half's yours," Mullins grunted, pulling out a handful of coins. "I'm off to the residential homes." He paused, dreaming with glee. "Jewelry is a valuable thing." 

Jukes bent down in the street, gathering up the remaining money in a satchel. When he stood up, Mullins was nowhere in sight. 

_Damn,_ he sighed. _It's always better to sack in numbers._ Jukes reasoned with his conscience. _I haven't killed in years. Do I really want to prove my inexperience and humiliate myself in front of my comrades? They're probably running citizens through right now._

Just then, a band of captives rounded the corner, heading towards the eastern fortress. Starkey was walking alongside them, thoroughly engaged in conversation with several uncomfortable-looking women. "Oh, no, ladies," he was saying. "Not a rogue, no! I'm a gentleman, born in Winchester. Did I tell you of my unsurpassed skills in chess?" 

Billy coughed, choking on his laughter. _Then again, maybe not._

He decided to head down the street. A few blocks away, everything was quiet. Save for the houses burning, he didn't hear any signs of life, and wondered if the stores had already been hit. 

Voices, barely audible. Two people speaking in agitated tones, arguing about something. A trapdoor? He spun around, listening. Then he heard them again. Was that Mullins and Mason? They were coming from the building directly ahead of him. He strode up and swung open the door. 

The voices stopped abruptly. It was a tavern, and by the looks of it, untouched. Jukes noted the bottles of liquor lining the wall. Definitely untouched. 

He could hear breathing in the room. Faintly, but it was there. And the only possible place to hide was right next to him- the bar. 

"All right, get up," he ordered, drawing his sword. "I know you're in there." 

Nothing. 

Jukes rolled his eyes and took a few steps forward. "Mullins, if that's you pulling this trash, I swear by the Seven Seas, I'll-" 

A lone figure raised its head above the counter, then slowly stood up, trembling. 

He stared in astonishment. It wasn't Mullins. It was a girl, most likely several years younger than he was, standing equal to him in height. She had dark eyes and unnaturally pale skin, her blackish brown hair tied up in a sash to match her red and cream dress. Her mouth hung open a little, as if she were trying to speak but could not. The girl's eyes darted nervously about before coming to rest on him. 

So, the raiding parties hadn't captured everyone. "There were two of you," he managed to say. 

A second girl emerged from behind the counter. This one was the same age, a blond, also dress in dazzling colors. She had the defiant look of a kid in a bakery with sugar on her hands- unrepentant and regretful only that someone had caught her. 

_Great,_ Billy thought inwardly. _What now?_ He couldn't just let them get away, but he hadn't the slightest notion where Morgan was taking the captives. _Curse you, Mullins, can't you ever show up when I need you?_ "Move towards the wall." 

"That won't be necessary." A cool, controlled voice spoke from the doorway. "I'll take it from here." 

Startled, Jukes spun around, curious as to who would bother to claim his menial task. 

This man was a buccaneer, and one of some rank, possibly a captain of a lesser ship sailing with the Oxford. He wore clothes suited for the foppish elite-his hat, shoes coat and bloomers were made of pale blue embroidered silk and accented the linen shirt and auburn wig that completed the outfit. 

His power, however, was his persona itself. From the moment he appeared, he controlled the floor, wearing a satisfied beginning of a smile that lingered on his lips. 

"Who are you?" Jukes asked hesitantly. "I have the situation under control." The gunner's sword never wavered. 

"Second in command to Sir Henry Morgan. My name is none of your business," he snapped, his eyes shifting from the pirate to the captives. "Who are they?" 

"Townspeople, I suppose," Jukes replied. "I found them here, trying to hide." The man prowled the length the bar, his lithe, measured movements like the languid pacing of a tiger stalking its prey. His steps came to a rest directly in front of the two women. "Really," came the indifferent reply. He turned to Jezebel. "Et qu'est-ce pourquoi vous n'êtes pas déjà volées?" 

Eve noticed that her manager remained abnormally unperturbed. _Either she isn't smart enough to realize the danger we're in, or she's remarkably hard to impress._ "Nous sommes attentées pour enfuir, je vous assures," Jezebel answered with flawless French. 

Seemingly satisfied, he shifted his attention to Eve. "Et vous?" 

Eve faltered. She glanced over to Jezebel, who shook her head once, sharply. "Je ne sais pas, monsieur." 

He searched her face, looking to expose a lie. Then her eyes met his, and Eve felt her blood run cold. 

In them, there was nothing and everything all at once. His irises were an endless gray, a sea of storms, full of contempt and malice. He held a sense of apathy to the plight of humankind, a desire for cruelty, and a lust beyond quenching in the mortal world. She saw that they were cold, empty, and heartless. But the inferno raged on beneath his calm, cool exterior. He was a coiled spring, waiting to explode. 

At last, he leaned on the counter. "So you are not a spy, then?" he asked casually. 

"Of course not," she burst out hotly. "I'm not even-" 

He blinked. Jukes drew in his breath sharply. Eve suddenly realized what she had done and slapped her hand over her mouth, cringing and squeezing her eyes shut. 

The buccaneer smiled and nodded once, his assumptions having proved true. He backed up from the counter, unsheathing his rapier and twisting towards Billy in one swift movement. "The first is a native here. The second…" at this, he raised the end of the blade and leveled it with Eve, "is not." 

Eve mentally hit herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Where are you from?" he demanded, his voice edged with steel. "All English are either dead, in prison, or are seizing this town. Speak." 

"I'm not from England. I'm an American," she answered unsteadily, eyeing the sharp point near her throat. 

He smirked. "Do you mean… a colonist?" His voice had subsided into a soft, dangerous tone. "There is no such nationality. All subjects in the colonies are under royal charter from his Majesty, Charles the First." He sneered and fingered the cloth of her sleeve. "And roundheads over there, I imagine, would be hard pressed to wear such interesting colors as these." 

"I-- I am not a Puritan," Eve stumbled, desperately thinking of the right thing to say. 

He lifted the blade and leaned closer. "Then what are you?" 

She looked down. "I don't know." 

"She doesn't know." His sarcastic imitation bounced off the walls. "Ah, yes, of course! Do you know, mademoiselle, what that makes you? An operative against the crown, a heretic, a runaway slave or the fleeing wife of a nobleman." 

"I am not any of those things!" Eve protested, shouting. 

The captain grabbed her arm, shaking her violently. "Then tell me who you are! How did you come to be here in a Spanish settlement with poor language skills, no apparent means and no help whatsoever?!?" 

"Peter Pan," she whispered. 

Jukes heart nearly leaped out of his throat. His mind raced. _Peter Pan? That's impossible!_ It was too fantastic, too unbelievable to be true. But if it was… 

"Say that again," the nobleman commanded, bringing the rapier to rest on the edge of her neck. He noticed Jezebel edging away. "Boy!" he ordered Jukes. "Train your musket on that one. If she moves, shoot her." 

The stripes of a wildcat were beautiful. Comprehend their meaning, and it was already far too late. Eve knew she was going to die either way. On most accounts, she was already dead. Any death had to be better than the fate in store for her after the raid. "Kill me," she ordered defiantly. 

He hesitated, surprised. "You heard me!" she shouted, pressing her skin against the sword. "I don't have a past or a future, so I cannot possibly answer your questions or tell you what you want to know. You wouldn't believe me. All I can get you is a little money. So just kill me. Right now." 

No one moved. For a few moments, she simply met his gaze, daring him to act, sick of the confusion and the lingering sadness she did not understand. _I am weary of games._

Eve closed her eyes, preparing for pain. When it didn't come, she opened one of them, astonished to see the rapier falling away. "Very well," the man replied icily. He shoved Eve roughly to the floor and turned to Jezebel. "Retrieve the money." 

"Of course," Jezebel answered slyly. "Promise to let me go, and I'll find it for you. You can torture her if you wish." 

Eve's mouthed dropped open. "Jezebel!" 

"Live and learn, Cherie," the barmaid replied impassively. She tossed a bag of coins on the counter. 

The stranger grabbed the sack. "Tie them up," he spoke to Jukes. "Our colonist here would obviously rather die than force her guardian to pay ransom, but I'm confident she's worth her weight in gold- a governor's daughter, at least. See that they're transferred to my ship; it's in the harbor." 

_"What?!?"_ Jezebel screamed. 

This enraged Jukes. He had waited passively throughout the conversations with the man, watching the reactions of the captives. He knew there was something that the dark haired girl wasn't telling anyone, and this intrigued him. But he was also sure that if Hook ever found out he'd let someone with information on Peter Pan go, he'd be flayed alive. "Wait," he growled. "These are _my_ prisoners. I found them, and I claim them as spoils to my ship." 

"Under whose jurisdiction?" the man taunted, turning his blade around and glaring at Jukes. 

"I believe," another man answered amusedly from the opposite entrance, "that the leader the lad was speaking on behalf of is me." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"Move it!" one of Morgan's men bellowed. "Move your feet or lose your head!" 

"Refresh my memory," Tink hissed at Peter, tugging at the knots around Peter's wrists. "How often do I let myself get into these calamitous escapades with you?" 

"Oh, about every day or so, give or take a few," Peter grinned. He marched in time with the other hostages from the tavern. "Are you almost done? We need to find Eve and depart from this dreadful place." 

"I'm WORKING on it," she spoke through clenched teeth. "Hold… your… horses. There!" The ties snapped. Peter rubbed his sore wrists. "Wait until the next building, then fly as fast as you can." 

"It's really too bad, you know," Peter mused. "I've always wanted to learn how to fire a musket…" 

Tink gave a noise of frustration and ducked back under his cloak. 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

Jukes breathed a sigh of relief. Captain Hook, along with Smee, Mason and Starkey, filled the doorway, watching the scene that had unfolded before them. 

"This brigand," Hook gestured to Billy, "untried as he may be, is correct. Whatever he deems worthy of the Jolly Roger belongs to my self, Captain James Hook, and my crew." He chuckled. "And who might you be?" 

The buccaneer's eyes narrowed. "Sir Francis Wittingthorn, Captain of the Sphynx and its members, second in command only to Morgan himself. And I beg to differ," he continued, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards the other door, where his men were pouring in, cutlasses in hand. "Whatever _I_ find, regardless of how much your men have undoubtedly tarnished it, is rightfully mine." 

"Well then, Captain," Hook replied, his hardened mouth spreading into a devilish smile, "I suppose we have a problem." Starkey leaped forward, pushing the barrel of his gun into Wittingthorn's forehead. Hook raised a hand at the approaching crew of the Sphynx. "One more step and you'll be less one leader." 

"Here she is, Cap'n," Jukes clasped Eve's shoulders and pushed her forward. "The one who knows Peter Pan." 

"Excellent. Well done, Jukes," Hook beamed, lauding Billy for the first time since he could remember. "Mason!" 

The muscled pirate lumbered over to Jukes, who was securing the ropes around Eve's wrists. "I apologize for this, miss," Billy mumbled. "Captain's orders." 

"A polite barbarian," Jezebel muttered. "Well, there's a first time for everything." 

Mason hoisted the shocked girl over his shoulder. "Ready, sir." 

"I swear, you'll regret this." The fury emanating from Francis's words never affected his placid, unwavering expression. His gaze settled on Hook's. "We shall meet again, _Captain."_ The corners of Wittingthorn's mouth curled into a morbid, derisive grin. "Mark me." 

Hook paused briefly. _By Jove,_ he thought with sudden clarity, _I'm positive I've met this venomous dandy before._ Something about him was unmistakably familiar… He shrugged the notion off. Still, the unsettling feeling remained, as if he was a fool for forgetting someone who carved such a striking impression. Even after they had left the tavern and were rushing towards the ship, he felt uneasy… 

The entire town remained engulfed in chaos. Hook's crew knew the plans and wove around the grim battles in the eastern end. Bodies decorated the streets, macabre portraits of the grotesque deaths they had suffered. Eve shuddered and closed her eyes. The group arrived at the docks and wasted no time boarding the Jolly Roger. 

"Is the treasure loaded?" Hook barked tramping up the creaking loading boards to the deck. 

"Aye, Cap'n," Smee saluted him and smacked off his own glasses in the process. 

"Smee," the captain sighed, his vision drooping at the sight of several large trunks waiting on the pier, "I meant the newest load as well." 

"Oh, to be sure, Cap'n! 'Tis loaded and packed away here somewhere!" He ran about, bumping into various supplies. 

Hook dragged his hand across his face. "I started out with merely a semi-incompetent crew," he groaned. "Mater, you were right. Time makes fools of us all." 

After several explanations and specific instructions to Smee, Hook lost his temper. "Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!" He pounded his fist against the rail. "Mullins, Cookson, Mason! Belay that and bring those boxes there on board!" 

After they weighed anchor and were well into the middle of the bay, Jukes glanced back at Puerto Bello, a blazing beacon in the early morning sky. He scoured the harbor, took a few steps towards the bow, then ran back to the stern and did a double take. Another ship was leaving shore early, and its gallery was open, banking for a broadside. 

Eve stood nearby, her hands tied. She saw the crimson flag, and knew it for what it was. 

No quarter given… 

"He's going to kill us all," she mumbled in shock. 

Jukes heard and gave her a sharp look. "Cap'n!" He yelled. "I think Wittingthorn's still angry with you!" 

"Of course he's still mad at me, ya clabber dungeon lummox!" Hook raged. "He's going to have to stay that way for a very long time!" 

BOOM! 

The sound of the shot bounced off the cliffs around the cove, ringing in everyone's ears. Moments later, the blast ripped through the bow's deck, splintering the wood and gouging out a trench in the ship. 

Eve screamed until her lungs gave out. The remainder of the crew was hastily descending the rigging, so Jukes firmly pushed her towards the galley trap. "This is no place for a lady," he remarked, leading her down the steps. "You'll be safe down there." Billy crawled back up, shut the door and locked it. 

The Sphynx fired several more shots, while Jukes returned fire, creating a sizeable hole in Wittingthorn's forecastle. The Jolly Roger escaped further damage, save for a piece of the deck wall that was easily replaceable. "I think they're out of range, sir," the gunner spoke up. 

Hook paced back and forth, glancing out to sea. "We're heading straight into those damnable mists again. Where is the girl? Bring her on deck. I wish to speak to her." 

¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,¸,ø¤º°`° 

"What do you, mean, _'abducted?'"_ Pan bellowed. "You were supposed to take care of her!" 

"Don't look at me," Jezebel protested. "I just lost half a month's profits, my customers are dead, and I must be hallucinating, because I'm taking to a little glowing firefly that yaks at me. Besides, Eve annoyed this captain that questioned us." 

"Who?" Tink demanded. "Hook?" 

"No. Hook took her in the end, but this was another man entirely. I think he said his name was Wittingthorn." She frowned. "Come to think of it, she probably ended up on the friendlier ship." 

"Oh, sure," Tink glared. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire!" 

Peter's temples were throbbing. _All this trouble, and we can't even save a single girl._ He was furious at Jezebel for being so careless, and even more worried about Eve. "She's coming with us," he blurted out suddenly. 

"Who? Me?" Jezebel snickered. "Where exactly do you think you're going? In case you haven't noticed, the city is surrounded." 

"I'm aware of this," Peter grimaced. "All too well." He glowered at Tink. 

"So I made the sleeping spell on the guards a bit too potent," Tink scoffed. "Hey, mistakes happen." She snorted. "At least I'm not the one who left our charge in the midst of a seedy, libidinous-" 

"Anyway," Peter interrupted, "the fact is that you lost my cousin to a bunch of bloodsucking pirates." He gave her a pointed look. "You owe us one." 

Jezebel rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "All right, fine. Have it your way. This town's all washed up. I'll go. Just let me get my things." She trotted into the back room, emerging a minute later with a small satchel. "Well?" the barmaid asked. "What are we waiting for? Let's forget this whole place ever happened." 

She didn't notice that Tinkerbell lingered behind them, or that the agile fairy sprinkled a small amount of dust from above that glittered on her golden hair. 

All the remaining prisoners had marched to the last hillside fort standing, and the privateers were having a meeting with Henry Morgan, so Pan had little trouble avoiding the chance lookout on guard. 

The trio gingerly stepped around the carnage beneath their feet, scanning the horizon for ships. "That's strange," Jezebel murmured. "Just a second ago, I was certain I saw two ships beyond the cove. But I looked again, and they were gone. Almost like a mirage in the fog." 

Peter and Tink strained their vision. "That's no ordinary fog," Peter swallowed. "I see them too." Seconds later, he was in the air, flying out to sea. 

"What in the world…" Jezebel murmured in astonishment. 

"It's easy," Tink instructed patiently. "Just- um, well…" She thought for a moment. "Push off. Imagine lots of money. Tons of money. Suddenly, it's all yours." 

It worked immediately. 

Peter was a mile ahead of them. The clouds darkened, but he was nearing the ships with every second that passed. As he flew above the first one, Pan observed a band of privateers, the hired pirates of an unfamiliar crew. He struggled to pass them, trying to see into the ever-thickening mists that hovered on the ocean's surface. 

Then he realized that someone was there, walking near the side of the second galleon. A girl in a red and white dress. Eve. Next to her, towering well over six feet, his pale hair waving in the breeze, was James Hook. 

"Eve!" Pan shouted. "I'm coming! Don't worry!" 

"Peter!" Eve screamed. 

"Ah, Peter Pan," Hook grinned, his usual venality having returned in full force. "Let me just say what a pleasure it is to know that you simply cannot bear to have me gone for one whole day without first wishing me farewell." 

"Stow the formalities, Captain Codfish!" the boy retorted. "You have something I want." 

"Do I now?" Hook pretended to be taken aback. "Why, so I do. You want me to return your competence. Haw haw." 

"Let her go, Hook." 

"Indeed," the Captain smirked. "If you want her, you'll have to come and get her." The mists were taking them further and further from sight, no matter how fast he flew. "But don't forget what's waiting right here, just for you." 

The last image Peter Pan caught was of a frightened Eve, clinging to the railing and calling his name, and Hook's silver claw raised high in the air. Then they were gone. 

The flying boy hovered in the mists. All that was left was the distant sounds of masts billowing in the wind, and a vast, endless sea. 

Back 

Copyright © 2001 Cassandra Lynne.   
May not copied or reproduced without permission. 


End file.
